Coming to Terms
by RuthaJade
Summary: Dylan Keogh finds out some devastating news; will it push Sam and Dylan apart even more, or bring them closer together, once again?   My first ever FanFic :D
1. Chapter 1

Hey! I'm Rutha and this is my first ever fanfic! :D

It does deal with some upsetting themes, so be warned.

But I hope you guys like it - I acknowledge reviews :)

Rutha x

Disclaimer; I do not own anything.

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><p>Coming to Terms<p>

Chapter One - Finding.

Although the corridors looked familiar, they weren't.

This was a part of the hospital that not many ED doctors had come across; they hadn't needed to as their paitents were always referred. However Dylan Keogh found himself wandering the hallways looking for a department he wished he didn't have to. Oncology.

As he followed the directions, he tried to keep himself calm by breathing deeply and trying not the think the worst - something he was sadly, extremely good at. Dylan tried to look at the situation in a more positive outlook; the news could be good, though his mind knew different. Finally he got to the department after a walk from the multi-storey carpark that had seemed like an age.

Dylan was relativily calm after recieving the news he had recieved last Tuesday. When he had heard, he hadn't cried or do anything that a anybody would expect a 'normal' person to react; he just sunk into the chair, clasped his big palms over his face and breathed slowly - he was in shock perhaps.

He hadn't told anyone about his various scan appointments or indeed the fact that he actually had cancer, not even his beloved dog, Dervla - he didn't want to worry her and therefore just kept himself to himself, it was as if the news hadn't hit Dylan yet.

He was walking along to Oncology to collect his scan results - to see if the tumour had spread. He was then scheduled to have a meeting with his consultant to discuss further treatment, which was a neccessity. As he arrived, his hands started to shake along with his body producing excess sweat; he was reflecting on the past few months, the feeling of his heart dropping when he felt the odd lump in the shower one morning, the embarrassment of going to see his GP, the pain of the biospy and then the tension of recieving the news 'Dr Keogh, you have cancer'.

However Dylan had taken it in his own stride, depiste being a negative human being, he'd sat down after a long shift and worked out the percentages and odds while eating a sandwich. His cancer was extremely rare with a 80% survival rate, which was calming for Dylan however the results today could indeed change that number significantly and that was what was nagging Dylan - he liked stats and numbers and they reassured him, until they started to fall.

His father had died of the same disease; he was his inspiration to become a doctor so Dylan knew fine well what the cancer did to the body. He wasn't scared of the foreseeable future, more disappointed; though his colleagues would think differently, Dylan enjoyed his job and was saddend to be hearing that he would be out of work for some time.

The last time he was here, he had recieved the devastating news. The day replayed in his mind suddenly.

_Greeting his consultant, Dr Edward Tennant, declining his offer of bringing a 'loved one' - he had thought of explaining all of this to Sam beforehand but had resisted; if the news had been positive, the full experience could of been just a memory and nobody would of have to of known._

_Dr Tennant was upset to give Dylan the news, he had worked with him for a short period during their training, before they both spilt off in different occupational directions but Edward had become rather friendly towards the man and had surprisingly liked him as a person._

_Once the news had been delivered and Dylan was sitting in the large office motionless, Edward stood up and walked around his desk and sat in the seat, usually for relatives, next to Dylan and patted his sunken back before exclaiming, 'I'm so so sorry Keogh, really I am'. Dylan then sat upright once again and asked for the treatment plan only to be greeted with the news of another scan before anything further would begin._

_After returning to his tall leather black chair, Edward told Dylan the reasons for the scan, Dylan stared right into his eyes, making him feel very uncomfortable, as he took in every word he was saying before standing up sternly and stretching his hand out, to signal the end of the meeting. Edward took the hand before repeating, 'Keogh, I am terribly sorry', stressing on the 'am', which Dylan responsed with his usual 'half-smile' before saying 'Thank you for, urr, well the information about the scan, when will I get the results?'. Dr Tennant told him the following Thursday to which Dylan nodded then swiftly exited the room, leaving Edward in the cold empty space, feeling entirely guilty for the news he had just been forced to deliver._

Dylan shuddered as he marched up to the office marked 'Dr E. Tennant'. That day wasn't the best and he suddenly felt like he was 8 years old again, when his mother sat him down on his bed and told him the unfortunate news of his fathers passing - vunerable, small and afraid. Just before knocking on the cold, dark door, Dylan shook his head violently whispering 'Get a grip Keogh!', then hit the door firmly before entering.

Edward stood to greet his old friend, before looking pitiful when he asked, 'How are you doing?'. This annoyed Dylan, who had regained his strength as he hated feeling like an invalid or lower class then anybody - something him and Sam had in common. Replying, 'Fine' with an abrupt tone, Dylan took a seat in the same chair he had sat in a week and a half ago before looking at Edward, the tension burning in his eyes.

'So' Dylan said, breaking the silence between the pair, 'I presume you have my results, yes?' he enquired, his deep tone of voice slightly shaking, reflecting what his legs were doing. Edward agreed with Dylans question before looking down at his desk. He sighed and took of his glasses before meeting Dylans gaze. 'Urm, Dr Ke... Dylan' he began before breathing deeply, trying to keep himself professional and calm. 'The results from your most recent scan,' he said, fastly 'have urr, well Dylan they have confirmed, a urm *gulp*' Edward took a deep breath as Dylan gripped the chair, 'they have confirmed that your cancer has spread.' Edward said in one breath.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so unexpectedly, the second chapter is already up! This chapter was meant to have so much more information in but it was getting quite long - Chapter Three will be better; promise! :D

Thanks for the reviews - they were really uplifting and I do appreciate them entirely!

Hope you enjoy this one just as much,

Rutha x

Disclaimer; I don't own anything.

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><p><span>People Can Tell<span>

It was the following weekend and the frosty breeze nipped Sam's ears as she stepped out of her house, ready for work. She quickly pull her coat and scarf further up her neck to protect her hurting ears, while breathing heavily watching her foggy breath danced in front of her, before skipping away. The low wintery sun had fooled Sam into believing the weather was looking better, consequenting in her leaving her fluffy gloves inside. She didn't think she had enough time to go back and get them.

Monitering the ice that had covered her small bricked driveway, Sam cleverly thought against using her bike as the means of transport for work today and instead decided to walk briskly, enjoying the scenary.

As she entered the doors to Holby ED, Sam got a shock. Normally her Saturday afternoon shift was easy and quiet with only minor casualties or a drunk from the night before - nothing out of her comfort zone, but the ED was extremely loud and busy, with Noel trying to calm a relative down, a fight breaking up in the seating area and security pushing passed Sam while escorting a violent visitor out of the grounds; a major contrast to her expectations.

Zoe came over to Sam and began to explain the carnage. Sam almost seemed in a blur as she took in the information,

'Drunk drivers' the older medic began, 'Six of them in a Mini, stolen - crashed into "Sainsburys Local" before reversing and crashing into a mother and baby, pinning them to a brick wall' she ended. Sam blew out before replying, 'Gosh, well good job I'm early then' before rushing to the staff room to get changed.

When she returned, she found Charlie who appointed her at where to go. He was confident in the amount of staff that were in resus and also thought they were coping so he told Sam, 'Cubicles please, we have a few minor casualties from the supermarket, debries and stuff and a few passengers; still drunk I'm afraid - sorry' before disappearing off to check up on the woman who had been pinned up against the wall.

Sam prepared herself for a 9 hour shift before taking a file off Tess, briefly skimming the paitents name before opening the curtain to Cubicle 4. There lay a teenaged girl, who had some cuts to her face and bruising on her neck. 'Simple' Sam thought as she introduced herself to Louise. She soon dressed her wounds and looked at the bruising before asking Louise if she had experienced pain in any other part of her body.

'My wrist' the shaken girl replied to which Sam questioned to which one and then proceeded to examine her left wrist. 'Hrmm' Sam murmered as she studied the wrist, stopping each time Louise inched in pain. 'I think that you have sprained your wrist, however I'll just get another doctor to check for me, okay?'. The girl nodded as Sam smiled before shutting the curtain.

Sam looked around for a senior medic before laying her eyes on Dylan. He looked odd to her, was unshaven and wearing the same shirt since Thursday, when he ran in late. His eyes looked heavy and the noticable bags under his eyes worried Sam subconsicously - she knew how much Dylan valued sleep and how he never liked to get less than 8 hours a night. Putting all that aside, she went up to him.

'Dylan, can you check this girl over for me please?' She began, expecting Dylan to follow her to the correct bay, she began to walk while explaining the paitents symptoms, 'Now, I think her wrist is just sprained but I would just like a second op..' she turned around as his loud broad footsteps seemed missing from the walk. Seeing that he was still standing in the same place she found him, she sighed and marched over to him again, 'Dylan?' she enquired, her face dodging around his, trying to dismember his gaze into nothingness, 'You with us? Dylan..'.

As Sam was Sam, although being estranged and distant from her husband, she could still read him like a book - she always had, her body was gradually becoming overwhelmed with worry, as she tried to talk Dylan out of his distant state. Something was on his mind, and she knew it had to be serious - Dylan never mixed work with his personal life, something the full ED had learnt on the night of the fire. 'Dylan?' she repeated again and again, her tone becoming more stearn with each question. She gently but firmly 'tapped' his shoulder, before pushing him for a second time.

This, thankfully worked and Dylan woke up from his trance. His eyes were grey and murky and as he swiped his right palm through his hair, he looked around him, trying to remember where he was. His eyes were met by his wife, who was looking extremely concerned, Dylan hadn't even realised she had been there. 'Urm, yes Sam,' Dylan coughed due to the fact his voice appeared weaker and higher compared to his usual deep tone. 'What can I help you with?'.

Sam wouldn't stop looking at him - she was doing the same to him, what he had done to Edward on 'the day'; staring well past the eyes and into the soul. Like Edward, Dylan felt uncomfortable and claustophobic'

'Look Dylan,' Sam begun, also clearing her throat shortly after - her voice had changed too, to a more quieter and again, higher one; a clear sign of the worry Sam was feeling. 'Are you alright? You sure don't look it'. At that, Dylan glared at her and Sam felt like she had stepped out of place, but still her mind gave her the courage to carry on, 'I do care about you' she quietly stated, 'and I am here for you, always.'.

Dylan's heart, the same heart that had fell in love with the blonde beauty wanted to tell her everything, but his mind stopped him so, like always, instead of revealing his true thoughts or feelings, he gave Sam one of his trademark 'half-smiles' and began to set off to the staffroom, he needed a drink.

As he brushed past her however, he whispered in a softer, kinder, unheard of tone; 'always'.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed it - remember to review, please!<p>

Thank you for reading, it means so much to me

Rutha x


	3. Chapter 3

Right guys! Here is part 3. I have an idea of the way the story is going to unfold but it may take some time - please stay with me! This was a larger project then I first thought :S

Thanks for the reviews, once again :D

Happy Reading!

Rutha x

Disclaimer; I do not own anything

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><p><span>Chapter Three - Telling<span>

It was eight and a half hours since Sams worrying confrontation to Dylan and it was majorly praying on her mind - she hadn't seen him since. Her busy shift was thankfully over and a tired Sam slugged to the staff room, to collect her things before walking home. As she entered, her fellow colleagues were all standing around the table, engaged in conversation while sipping various cups of tea, coffee and juice. Zoe recognised Sam as she came in and left the talkative group to see her. Her expression looked 'concerned' and Sam hadn't noticed her until she was right up in her face, as she pulled her jacket from her locker. 'Sam,' Zoe started, 'Do you know where Dylan is?'. Shaking her head as an initial response Sam expanded, 'Not since the start of my shift no, why? Is something wrong?'. Sam suddenly remember Dylans 'alien' state in the afternoon, and a pain of worry flashed through her mind.

Zoe shifted around on her feet and told Sam, 'I think he left, after two - it wasn't the end of his shift so I was wondering why, thats all - I'll get Nick or Charlie to ring him in the morning, just to check if he is alright.' she concluded, smiling at Sam as she began to return to the conversations of the group.

'No,' Sam stated, quite suddenly surprising Zoe. Sam took in Zoes startled look and frown at her, 'I..I mean, I'll talk to him tonight' - to which Zoe's eyebrows raised, 'Urm, I don't mind; just to save Mr Jordan or Charlie the hassle?' Sam breathed heavily as Zoe's eyebrows returned to the usual height, she had saved herself.

The wintery air had become more powerful as Sam battled through wind and sleet as she made the memorable journey home. It was always a very different journey to the earlier one - the nightsky had covered the scenary, making Sam cautious and weary. As she finally made it up the small path to her modern, three-bedroomed house, Sam swore as she tried to find her keys in her handbag, her numb fingers restricting her movement; she wouldn't forget her gloves tomorrow, she thought as she finally found them and let herself in to her building.

It was two hours since her shift had ended and Sam had recovered well from the journey home - the heating was turned up full blast, she had enjoyed some homemade soup and she was resting on her sofa in the thickest pajama's she could find in her wardrobe, while reading a magazine and munching on some Jammie Dodgers. Sam was at eaze and the long day she had endured had simply ran away from her thoughts and she got up to make some cocoa.

Suddenly, a loud knock at the door occured, causing Sam to drop the tub of cocoa, spilling it on her tiled floor. Nobody visited Sam, her friends wouldn't turn up uninvited - or at this hour - she didn't speak to the neighbours and she hadn't ordered anything online recently so naturally, Sam was intriged but worried at the caller. She left the cocoa on the floor leaving a mental note to 'clean it up' after and casually went to the door. As it creaked open - she really needed to treat the hinge - she gasped as the unknown caller revealed their identity.

'Dy..Dylan?' Sam enquired, wondering why her estranged husband was standing outside in the snow, looking extremely cold and exhausted. 'Would you like to come in?' Sam asked, unaware of what to say; of course the questions of 'what are you doing here?' and 'what do you want' prayed in her mind, she would ask them soon, however she didn't want to see her husband freeze to death on her doorstep so thought inviting him in on the freezing February night would be the best thing to do.

Dylan awkwardly stood in the hallway. He too was unaware of what to say and realised he had to explain why he had decided to pay his wife a visit very late on a Saturday night. As Sam walked through to her living room, Dylan followed before taking the seat on the black leather sofa Sam offered him, as she sat on the matching one.

Sam talked first, she reflected on what had happened at the beginning of her shift and then remembered her brief conversation with Zoe at the end and how she had promised her she'd ring him. 'Are you alright?' she said, thinking that confrontational questions like the ones she had wanted to ask at the start were inappropriate.

Dylan coughed and stared at the roaring fire - he knew how much Sam hated being cold and how she loved to snuggle down in her PJ's and lie on the sofa with him after a hard day; he must of interupted her. 'I' he began before giving up on his answer. He felt like he needed to tell somebody, anybody about his results - they had prayed on his mind so much in the past three days and he couldn't take much more of it. Dylan was finding this very hard; he wasn't the type of person who could tell someone their problems or feelings however, from experience he knew that it helped a person.

'Well, I' he started again, Sam was perched on the edge of her seat, her deep blue eyes staring at him again, however they seemed different; they were painted with panic and worry and Dylan suddenly felt bad for her - this gave him the courage to tell her the reason why he unexpectedly turned up at her house.

'Alveolar Sarcoma' he stated, giving up on the 'I have' lark. Sam looked at him confused. 'What?' her usually smiley complextion had turned murky and grey. 'Urm, I have, well that' Dylans monotone voice answered as he stared at the fire, watching the flames dance around with not a care in the world. 'Right,' Sam responsed, unable to know what to say as tears started to fill her eyes up, sadness replacing the worry. 'W...what I mean how far?' Sam stammered, her voice choking as the tears became too much to fight back .

At this point, Dylan removed himself from the seat and walked over to Sam's, placing himself next to her, ignorring the awkwardness that could potentionally occur between the two. Sam watched him as she filed the information into her head, searching for an answer. 'Well, it's spread but it was originally in my , and now also, my' Dylan stopped as Sam looked at him. He slowly put his arm around her and paused for a breath. As he sat there with Sam burrowed into his chest, he whispered, so silently you couldn't hear him if you were waiting for the answer 'It's in my brain, Samantha' before hugging her tighter as her sobs expressed themselves louder and louder.

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><p>This chapter was intended to be longer but I thought it was best to leave it there.<p>

Please review - good or bad, whatever really!

And follow me on twitter RuthaJade

Thank you,

Rutha x


	4. Chapter 4

Right! Here is Chapter Four - I'm reluctant to post this as I don't think it is very good but I'll let you guys make up your own minds! Its also a little longer than the others and drags but please, stay with me? :D

Thanks so much to flyingsolo.x for giving me confidence to post this via twitter last night and for the trailer link and magazing article!

Also, the reviews are great and I love every single one of them! :D

Rutha x

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><p>Sam opened her eyes and she reluctantly woke up. Her usually perfect hair was tatty and backcombed all over the place and the marks her make-up had left from the night before were still streaked down her soft cheeks. Her nose was blocked and extremely red and her mouth was dry.<p>

Confused, Sam sat up and realised she was on her sofa. She looked around the room for clues of her occurance before her heart sank as she remembered what had happened the night before. As she reached to her coffee table for her iPhone, Sam panicked as she realised the time; 12.30 - she had work in one hour. As she got up quickly, Dylan walked into her living room, in the same clothes he had wore when he turned up late last night, with a breakfast tray holding a bacon sandwich and a glass of fresh orange juice - Sam's favourite. As Sam stopped and looked at him, he placed the heavy tray on the convienient coffee table before reasurring Sam, 'I've called Mr Jordan, told him you were sick so you couldn't come in', to which Sam sighed with relief as she flopped onto her sofa again, glancing at the piping hot sandwich.

'For me?' she eventually said. Dylan nodded before opening his mouth to say something, but then back-tracking on it as he watched Sam munch on the food. The silence between them was full of awkwardness, tension and reflections of the night before. Both medics were running through what had actually happened and what they, mainly Sam had learnt.

'Last night,' Dylan began, breaking the quiet. Sam stopped eating and crossed her legs, as she mentally vowed herself 'not to cry again' - as imagined, the Keogh's weren't an emotional couple and Sam had felt embarassed at the way she reacted. With this in mind, she joked, 'It's funny, I cried more then you when really it should of been that way,'. She was trying to put a 'positive light' on the devastating subject however realised that the subject could never be funny due numerous factors; one, she was dealing with Dylan Keogh. The second factor was something that had completly slipped Sam's mind due to the circumstances beforehand, this factor was so opening and important that Sam was angry she had forgotten it however Dylan quickly reminded her;

'I don't cry.'

He said it so quickly after her careless 'joke' that it startled Sam. But he was right, Dylan Matthew Keogh had not cried since he was 8 years old.

_'Big boys don't cry' his grandmother said as she took his hand as they made their way inside the church. Dylan's mother hadn't been able to attend the funeral, she was too upset, so Dylan had to go in her place. 'Big boys don't cry and I'm a Big Boy' the small, young boy whispered as his grandfather shook his hand through his dirty blonde hair, giving him a signigture 'half-smile', something Dylan picked up and noticed. 'Big boys don't cry and I'm a Big Boy, Big boys don't cry and I'm a Big Boy, Big boys don't cry and I'm a Big Boy...'_

'...Big boys don't cry and I'm a Big Boy,' Dylan thought subconsiously, as soon as he stated the 'obvious' to Sam. He had been carrying that piece of advice from his grandmother for 26 years and it had served him well; he used it two years after he was first taught it when his mother left, when he had to live with his grandparents, when he was continuously bullied at school, when he got embarrassed at college - he felt as if he couldn't live without it.

Guilt overcame Sam as she suddenly remembered the reason for Dylan never crying. Memories flooded back and Sam's heart dropped as her mind regained this information, processing it and making her emotions become aware. She felt her cheeks soak up her fresh, warm tears, breaking her self-made promise as she looked at Dylan, self-consiously.

He was standing very uncomfortably as he watched sadness shadow his wife - he had knew that she had forgotten and he was mad at himself - his body - for making her remember. Sam was extremely good at blanking out bad things she had experienced, letting her mind and soul forget, so she didn't have to experience the emotions the devastating things brought along with each other - that was one of her advantages of working in the army; everything she saw or experienced was distressing, but the personal emotional barrier that Sam had set up for herself dealt with that, so she didn't suffer any trauma from the events afterwards - like many other army medics endured.

Sam composed herself, swinging her outgrown fringe to the back of her ears and swiftly brushing her hair with her fingers before tying it in a messy pony-tail, securing her long hair with a handy band she had convientantly wrapped around her slim wrist. Rubbing her eyes with her long fingers, she wiped away the crusty old tears that she had let dry from last night. She then breathed deeply and tilted her head to look at Dylan before opening her eyes and looking up at him. Swallowing, she prepared to speak;

'It's what your dad had, isn't it?'. This was the 'factor' of Dylan that Sam had forgotten, the 'thing' that had originally brought Dylan and Sam together and Sam felt as if she couldn't forgive herself for forgetting it. Dylan responded to the emotional question with a silent nod.

Sam shook her head, 'Oh Dylan' she gasped as she too stood up, so she could face him at the same level. She paused as the two indivduals stood a metre apart from each other. Suddenly, Dylan opened his arms to his emotional wife and she flew into them quickly. As the two embraced again, Sam's embarrassment disappeared as did Dylan's awkwardness. Moments skipped past as Sam tightly held onto his back, closing her eyes as Dylan rested his head on her shoulder. It had been a long time since they had held each other like this, and both realised how much they had missed the feeling the gesture gave them. In each others arms they had felt safe and protected, not vunerable or scared.

As the embrace came to a close, the two parted and Dylan wiped the tears from Sam's soft cheeks. Clearing his throat he looked into Sam's eyes and spoke;

'There, well urm, there's something else' he managed. Sam, raised her head and wondered 'what else could there be?' before she stammered, '. is it?'.

Dylan cut of the eye contact and lowered to stare at the floor - he couldn't tell Sam, _his Samantha_, this while looking at her - he wasn't sure what her imediate reaction would be. He made the quick decision to tell her after contemplating the situation in his head while they were hugging. He had to tell her, his reasons why and he had to get her to understand too. If he said everything in one go, then it wouldn't be as painful, he thought.

So, with that, Dylan once gain cleared his throat and as he opened his mouth, the bottom of his stomach dropped however he chose to ignore the feeling. Breathing in, he began;

'Samantha, from the ages of 5 to when I was...urm well, when I was 8, I watched my fa..dad suffer because of this can..disease. He was so pale and ill and as you know, it eventually killed him. He put my mum through so much and it changed her - she stopped eating, started drinking and then left. The treatments he was given didn't help, they just prolonged his pain and suffering and there was absoulutly no point in them. So, well.. urm I have decided to..well I've decided to decline any treatment. I'm not going to be like my dad and I'm not going to let you turn into my mum just because of some stupid cells!'

Dylan stopped, he had gotten himself worked up and his face had turned a shade of red as he had gotten more and more involved in his speech. He sat down on the sofa as Sam took in all the information. She then realised what that meant - her Dylan, the only person in the world who she loved, who was there for her, who protected her, was going to d..; she couldn;t say the word and just silently sat down next to him.

She wasn't crying - sometimes people are too upset to cry - and just rested her head on Dylans shoulder, she was in a trance. Dylan's arm once again responded and he gently put it around her as he once again whispered,

'I have three months to live - I..no,_ we_ are going to make the most of it'.

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><p>It WASN'T meant to end like this, Dylan was meant to go through chemo and stuff but I didn't think I could portray it correctly so I changed it. So I'm really sorry!<p>

Remember to review!

Thanks for reading,

Rutha x


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